Black Wings
by MsMonochrome
Summary: Malik should have died that night four years ago, but a mysterious stranger saved him. Who was this person and what was he doing there that night? What's more, what does he want with Malik now?
1. Chapter 1

Malik didn't know what it was like to have friends with whom he could tell anything, and have them not think him crazy; the not thinking him crazy being key. He might have known some people like that a few years ago, but so many things had changed since then. For one thing he was no longer the aloof high school dolt he had been in those days, he was no longer willing to skip a class to hang with his "friends" and sneak a cigarette behind the school building. He'd smoked at the hole in the chain-link fence where the other misfits hung out; and although he'd attempted to give up the habit he'd never stopped smoking, he'd just found better places to do it at.

Those people who had clustered at the hole in the wall had mostly just been in their rebellious teenager phase, piercing their noses and getting tattoos just to piss their parents off, although Malik had done both himself truth be told. He had actually gotten his ear pierced, not his nose, so that was one thing that separated him from those posers, that and the fact that most of them weren't alive anymore.

He no longer dreamt of the fire that claimed their lives, at least not every night as he used to. Occasionally he would find himself trapped inside that building again, and relive that horrible night once more.

* * *

It was always the same dream, starting with Malik finding himself alone in the abandoned warehouse, the realization that no one was there to save him as smoky tendrils climb the walls like vines caused his heart to beat a panicked staccato in his chest. Through the gaps between crates and holes in the crumbling walls he saw flames growing ever higher and his lungs began to fill with smoke despite the fact he'd pulled his damp t-shirt over his mouth and nose in an attempt to filter it out. From somewhere else in the building he could hear the terrified screams of the others who had come here with him but they all blended together, he couldn't tell one voice from another, much less where anyone else was in the maze he stood in.

A crash sounded nearby and Malik turned to see part of the ceiling collapse, flames licking the fresh debris and climbing the walls, smoke rising into the inky black night like a beacon. Even if someone were to see it now they would be too late; by the time the fire department came the warehouse might be just a charred, smoldering wreck. Somehow it had started raining within the past hour, not like the rain was doing anything to stop the fire so far, the flames were too strong.

As the smoke forced him to his knees, his body doubled over and his lungs struggled for any trace of precious oxygen a though came to him. He might not make it out of the building alive; he might die here and now, and for what? A stupid dare? No, it hadn't even been that, it had been peer pressure. The same crap his health teachers had warned him about so many times; he'd never taken it seriously, and now he was almost certainly going to die because of it.

Each breath became harder, more painful as the seconds ticked by; the heat of the room was unbearable and flames drew ever closer to where he lay but he couldn't move so much as a muscle anymore. After some time, Malik had no idea exactly how long it had been, darkness blotted out his vision entirely.

At first, he thought that it was death, that his life was ending right then and there, and what part of his brain was still capable of thinking screamed out that he wanted to live. Seconds later though, he was still alive, and still blind, unable to make out anything. Then the darkness moved slightly and he realized that it was the shadow of someone standing over him. Whoever it was, they must have been impossibly big, as they managed to block out the light of the fire surrounding them. Then the shadow spoke and Malik was forced to stop thinking about how it was possible to turn that much light into darkness; in fact, he stopped thinking about anything at all, his entire attention focused on what this stranger was saying.

"You should not be here." That was it. That was all the mysterious person said; or at least Malik thought it was a person, they sounded human, and why would someone who wasn't human show themselves right now?

"Tell me about it." Malik managed to choke out the words, although each one tasted of ash and burned his throat as he spoke them.

"You are not supposed to die tonight," with that odd statement Malik managed to turn his head and glance up at whoever was talking to him. All that was visible was a silhouette, like the shadow-puppet shows he and his brother had seen when they were younger, before the divorce forced them to split apart. It looked like a man, but behind the man were what looked like wings, gigantic black ones that seemed to fill the room with darkness, practically putting out the fire's glow with it.

"What?" Malik managed to gasp weakly, each breath came in weaker than the last as time went on. Speaking even a few words was draining and he knew couldn't stay conscious much longer, and then he would die.

"You are not on the list of those who will die tonight; although I cannot say the same for your acquaintances." The man's voice was emotionless, as though this conversation about who would die and who would not was just as interesting as talking about the weather.

"Who are you?" His words were a strangled gasp

The man knelt down so he was face to face with Malik, and for the first time his face was visible. He looked human, very human in fact, with tanned skin and closely cropped brown hair; through one side of his mouth ran a thin scar, as though someone had slashed at his face with a knife, and his eyes were the color of molten gold.

"Who do you_ want_ to think I am?" The man asked with a grin, and then he placed his own scarred lips on Malik's and seemed to suck the smoke from his lungs and replacing it with sweet, precious oxygen. He wasn't sure if it was the rush of fresh air or the man's kiss that made his head spin; his mouth felt as if it too were burning along with the rest of his body, and once they broke apart he managed to not take a deep breath of smoke before his vision blacked out completely.

When he'd woken up the next morning it was inside a hospital, he lay upon crisp, clean sheets staring up at white walls and struggling to remember just what had happened to him. A nurse had fetched a police officer who'd wanted to know how he'd gotten out alive when the warehouse had been a blazing inferno. It had been burning strongly when the fire department had arrived and the firefighters hadn't dared send anyone in because no one had believed anyone could survive such a situation. Yet a few feet away from the building had been Malik, his face blackened by soot, his clothing scorched, but otherwise he was unharmed and no one could figure why he was alive.

After some deliberation Malik had claimed that he'd stumbled out towards the beginning of the fire and passed out, because who would believe that, well, a strange man with wings had saved him, hell, he hardly believed it himself. It had to be true though, how else was he possibly alive when he should have been burnt to a crisp along with everyone else?

* * *

Most nights he woke up gasping for air after these dreams, his lungs burning as though he'd run a marathon in his sleep, his shirt was more often than not drenched in sweat and sticking to him, his lips burning, as though the mere memory of the kiss was enough to bring the sensation back years later.

It wasn't like Malik had managed to come back unchanged after that night though, oh no, not in the slightest; ever since that horrible night Malik had been able to see things others couldn't. Maybe it was because he had died after all and therefore could see things related to it, maybe because he was just unlucky like that. The ghosts didn't care what the reason was, they were just there, floating around aimlessly and bothering him from time to time if they realized that he could see them. They had probably been there all along and he had just never been able to notice them before, a thing he'd never taken for granted because he didn't know it was something to be grateful for.

As time passed since that dreadful night he became distant with his friends and family, causing his brother, with whom he only contacted through emails, to worry about his mental health. Malik wasn't crazy though, he was just different; how could a normal person, someone who couldn't see those things or been there that night possibly understand just what he'd seen or what he'd gone through? It was unthinkable and just plain impossible to even consider.

Even though he could now see ghosts he didn't know what he was supposed to do with his newfound ability. Should he exorcise them? Convince them to pass on peacefully? The past few years he'd just ignored them and nothing bad had happened because of it, at least nothing so far so he felt no need to change his behavior.

Malik had also never seen the man who'd saved him in those four years, and even though most of his mind was of the agreement that there was no need to see him again, some small part of him couldn't forget the glow of those amber eyes, or the heat of those lips. That same part didn't particularly want to either.

* * *

Halloween at Malik's college was made into a way bigger deal than it should have been, but that's what he got for going to a cheap school. Most of his classmates would throw parties and dress up in stupid costumes before getting drunk and sleeping with whoever would let them; it was the same every year at this place. Instead of joining the rest of his school he preferred to stay in his dorm and either watch movies or read because going outside was awful. There were more ghosts than ever on Halloween and it unnerved him, watching people just walk through them as though they weren't even there. Occasionally someone might get a chill or something, but that almost never happened.

He had just settled down on his bed with A Storm of Swords when there was a knock on his dorm's door, sharp and loud. Malik figured it must be his roommate having forgotten his key once again, and opened the door intending to snap at the guy for being such a fucking idiot. That changed the moment he saw who stood before him, the words died in his throat.

It was the man from the fire. The one who'd saved him. The one he hadn't seen in years and didn't think he would see again. Yet there he was, looking practically unchanged from the last time they'd met. His brown hair was slightly longer and somewhat ruffled-looking, and his face was no longer expressionless but annoyed, but otherwise he looked exactly the same from that night in the warehouse. Except for his clothes of course, instead of whatever thing he'd worn back then he was now dressed in black, tight fitting jeans, a dark blue t-shirt, and a black hoodie embroidered with gold designs, his wings nowhere to be seen.

"We need to talk."

* * *

I wrote this months ago, it was inspired by a story I worked on a while ago, and I figured I might as well post it and see what people think of it. I'm not exactly sure where it's going, but there's no harm in posting this, is there?

What is Altair exactly? Yes, if you couldn't guess already by my description, the guy with wings is Altair. Done. Mystery solved for us readers but Malik finds out what his name is in the next (unfinished) part I've written. If you want to find out what he is and have me continue this please tell me, otherwise it'll just be on here and I won't have any encouragement to finish it.

I am working on my other stuff, I'm just dealing with stuff. Two of my other stories have only one chapter apiece left, so that's a plus.

Please review so I know whether or not to work on this!

Ms Monochrome


	2. Chapter 2

Malik didn't know what to do, he was not only at a loss for words but actions as well; a man he hadn't been sure actually existed until just now had shown up at his doorstep as though it hadn't been three years since they'd first encountered each other and the way they'd met hadn't been completely batshit crazy. Not only that, but there had been no "hello." No "hey, how are you doing?" Just "we need to talk," as though that was the only explanation necessary for the current situation they were now in.

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, leaning up against the doorframe to steady his shaking knees. "I half-believed you weren't real, you know that?"

The man did nothing to respond, choosing instead to continue standing still, hands in his sweatshirt pockets, as though nothing had been said at all. It was annoying as hell, and Malik had half a mind to slam the door right in this guy's face, except it was more than likely that it wouldn't do any good.

Another sigh escaped his lips. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I cannot discuss it here, this place makes it easy for eavesdropping to occur."

"What do you want me to do? Invite you in where we can have a touching heart-to-heart?"

"That had been what I intended, although the second part is entirely unnecessary." He pushed the door open and walked past Malik as though he weren't even there, sitting down at a desk chair once inside the room and then looking at the man intently as though waiting for the student to join him.

"What's so important?" Malik asked, plopping down onto his bed, the only other spot he could sit that belonged to him.

There was silence for several second before the man opposite him spoke.

"Altair."

"What?"

"I just... I figured you had the right to know my name." The man, Altair, looked somewhat embarrassed, as though what he'd just told Malik had been a struggle to get out.

"You're really weird, you know that?" Malik didn't know what else to say in that sort of situation, with someone he'd only met when he was seconds away from dying, someone who'd saved his life and vanished for three years before turning up on his doorstep without any warning. Now that same person was getting flustered about simply saying what his name was? What was the proper reaction for a situation like this?

"Strangely enough you're not the first person to tell me that, I guess it's one of the perks of the job." Altair's voice was casual, as though the question hadn't fazed him at all.

"Why are you here Altair?" Malik got straight to the point, realizing that unless he did so their conversation would go nowhere. "Just who, no, just what are you?"

The man's whole body tensed at the questions and there was silence between them. Finally, after over a minute of awkwardness, Altair answered him.

"Have you heard of reapers?" He asked, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something strange in it. Was it be fear?

"You mean like the grim reaper? Skeletons in long black robes with scythes who take the souls of those who die?" It was Halloween, and for over a month he'd seen that ridiculous character on houses as window-clings, in movies and shows, and lining the shelves of stores. Of course he'd heard of the guy, it wasn't like he was stupid or anything.

His mind flashed back to that night at he warehouse, as smoke had forced the air from his lungs the man, Altair, had said something that hadn't made sense until just then.

"You are not supposed to die tonight." How had he known? Was that why he was still alive today, because Altair had known just whose lives would be ending that night? Was that why he'd been there in the first place?

"So, you're some kind of death god-thing?" Malik asked, trying to keep his voice steady after the sudden realization.

"I'm not a god."

"So what are you, do you have trouble talking or something? I'm not going to play guessing games with you all night if I don't have to."

"I already told you, I'm a reaper, but I'm just one of many. It is a job rather than an entire existence, but like the creatures humans write stories about we do ensure that those who are supposed to die do so by separating the soul from its container." The reply sounded rehearsed, as though it was a standard answer that had to be memorized rather than something he'd taken time to come up with.

"Ok, so if that's what you are, why are you here now? Why are you telling me this?" Malik's stomach clenched, the hair on the back of his neck standing up straight. "Am I going to die? Is that it?"

"If I were here for your soul do you really think I'd be telling you all of this? I could have let you die in that fire, but I decided against it." Altair sighed and ran a hand through his short brown hair, as if he found it hard to admit.

"Why didn't you just let me die? Wouldn't it have been easier than saving me?"

"It was just a whim, nothing else," another sigh escaped the man's lips. "I'm here because I need your help."

Seconds ticked by into silence, neither person speaking so they just sat there facing each other, not daring to blink or move a muscle.

Finally Malik found his voice and managed to croak out a single word. "What?"

"I'm not saying it again alright? I know you see them, the spirits, and I know you can interact with them. You must have noticed the increased spiritual activity within the past year, right?"

The human nodded, after all, he had noticed how many more ghosts there were lately as compared to earlier years.

"Someone's been messing with the next world, a human we think, and they've found a way to rip holes between this world and the next one. They're playing with fire, whoever they are, and need to be stopped." There was a dark look in Altair's eyes as he spoke.

"Look, it's not me, okay?" Malik raised his hands up defensively before him. "I haven't done anything wrong here."

"I know you haven't, no offense but if you were the type of person to rip holes in dimensions I wouldn't have saved you back then." The man smiled, he actually smiled, and it completely transformed how he looked. He'd gone from a menacing and serious rule enforcer to someone that Malik wouldn't mind being friends with.

"Then why are you here if you don't think I'm the culprit?"

"I already told you my reasons for visiting you. You can see the spirits and I am in need of someone who can assist me in capturing the escaped souls and sending them back to their resting place."

"Wait, so you really did come back here after four years to ask for my help. I don't fucking believe this. No, I won't help you, now go away." Malik felt the blood boil in his cheeks, what had he expected from this man? A friendly hello, a pleasant apology for not visiting at all, a nice conversation, and maybe some making out? Wait, no, scratch that last part. Kissing was not something on his agenda right now.

"You don't understand." Altair's voice was still as flat as it had been, but there was a thread of insistence to it. "You're the only one I can turn to in this matter."

"Why me? You haven't saved anyone else's life by smooching them, is that it?"

"That has nothing to do with, wait; are you mad because you think I kissed you without your permission? I didn't kiss you! I was performing CPR! You were dying and you didn't have to so I made the decision to save your life, and it involved mouth-to-mouth-recesitation. Does that make you feel better?"

It didn't make Malik feel better, he had been hoping for another kiss, as much as he tried to deny it, those lips had been so warm and pleasant on his own. "I wasn't talking about you kissing me, but so long as we're on the topic I'd appreciate you not doing that ever again. The subject at hand though, was why you picked me to be your sidekick? Why do you need me in particular?"

"I know you, and you know me. That's it really. I don't save humans, and the reason I saved you still eludes me. It was just a whim I guess, but you are the only human whose life I have saved, and it seems that my actions affected you, you who were so near death, and connected you with that side of things. You see spirits because you nearly died, and I need your ability to see them, to interact with them as a human."

"Why?" Malik felt as though he was saying this often. A sort of déjà vu feeling.

"Because spirits interact with humans and reapers differently, they know that people like me have one purpose in communicating with them while humans may not. They also used to be human, and therefore have a stronger connection to humans than with reapers."

"That... makes some sense I guess, but what reason do I have to work with you? You saved my life, yeah, but why should I have to drop everything and go with you on some ghost-hunting spree?"

The reaper glared at him, those golden eyes glowing as though they were suddenly lanterns. "Because not all spirits are like the one's you've encountered so far Malik, there are bad ones out there, and they can tell you're different from everyone else. They will know you could have died that day and that you are special now because you did not, and they will target you and those around you. If you have anyone you care about, friends, family, anyone close to you, they will be in danger because of you. Do you want bad things to happen to those people? Do you?"

Malik didn't know what to say, his mouth was strangely dry and he found himself gulping for air. He rose to his feet, hands clenched into fists. "This is your fault, I didn't ask to be saved, why should I have to go through this insane shit?"

"Yes, I saved your life. Would you have preferred to die alongside those friends of yours back then? Have these past four years of living meant nothing to you at all? Do you think that, had I known my actions would result in this kind of thing, I would have acted as I did? It's impossible to know the future, even for reapers, sorry if I disappointed you." Altair sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's also impossible to change the past, and although killing you here and now would protect your friends and family it would make things somewhat harder for me."

There didn't seem to be any other option and he moaned, covering his face in his hands. "What would I have to do?"

"Make a contract with me, and by doing so I will transfer some of my powers to you. These will allow you to handle anything nasty you may come across while dealing with these spirits. Although, there may be some cases where I'm forced to step in, I wouldn't want to make you deal with anything you're not capable of, and there are some things that, well, you don't want to ever meet."

"And how would I go about making this contract with you?"

"I know you'll be against it, but the contract is usually formed between those of opposite genders, and, well, it requires a mouth-to-mouth seal. If you don't want to do this, I will understand but I hope that you can endure this for the sake of the world."

"I have to kiss you? Again?" Just what he needed, an excuse to press his lips to those deliciously warm ones as he'd done all those years ago. "Fine. I'll do it, but this is the last time, alright?"

Altair rose to his feet, making it evident that he was at least half a foot taller than Malik by doing so. He held out his hand and a ball of golden light appeared in his palm. "This is my gift to you in exchange for your help, I give you power, you give me your loyalty, do you accept these terms, Malik Al'Sayaf?"

"I accept the terms." The human replied, the words coming out of his mouth without much thought, it just sounded right to say what he was saying.

"Then, Malik Al'Sayaf, with this seal I forge a contract between us." Altair's voice was calm, but then he was kissing Malik and those warm lips were pressed to his and it felt so nice and wonderful he didn't want it to ever stop.

But it did stop, when the door to the room was forced open and his roommate walked in, greeting the pair of them by saying, "Thought you swung that way."

* * *

Sorry to give you a cliffhanger like that but it seemed like a good place to stop. And now the mystery is solved! Altair's a reaper, not an angel, sorry if I disappointed anyone.

msmonochrome


End file.
